


Echoes and Silence

by Walker_August



Category: Sand Castle (2017)
Genre: Exes, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Loneliness, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Returning Home, Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-11 15:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/pseuds/Walker_August
Summary: Captain Syverson returns home.





	1. Chapter 1

Heat. He’s always surrounded by heat. Sure, he’ll take the heat of Texas over Iraq most days now, but for Captain Syverson touching down back home doesn’t fill him with that expected feeling of glory and victory so much as an anxious knot in his stomach. With his latest and last tour of duty completed, and an honourable discharge to his name, Syverson had felt so sure it was time to go home and rest for at least a year or two. But now he’s back, back in the state he always felt loyal to before, back in the house he used to call home, and he isn’t so sure any more.

He’s owned the house for years, something he was always so proud of. Working himself to the bone to be able to afford it, because once upon a time he was sure it’s where he would always want to be – with a wife and kids, a family that never did happen. He always knew he’d be deployed, become an officer, work his way up the ranks. That was the point. He’d known he’d join the army since his Pa had told him about it as a kid. He just assumed he’d have someone to come home to, but he was naive back then. More jaded than ever now.

Not bothering to unpack, the backpack with his few possessions in it left on the floor of the hallway, Sy’s first thought is the shower. He hasn’t had the luxury of a long, warm shower in a while – clean water and a nice smelling shower gel now available to him again. He strips off his dirty clothes and steps in under the powerful flow of water, letting it soak and warm him. It feels good, to feel actually clean for the first time in a long time, but it does nothing to lift his spirits. Looking at himself in the mirror afterwards, he feels like a different man – not just the beard and the extra muscle, he feels it inside. Change that he doesn’t know what to do with yet.

Shaking his thoughts away he quickly dries himself off before climbing in to bed. It’s is made up with fresh sheets, which means his brother and his wife have been in like he asked and he’s grateful for it. Friends told him he’d be tired but this is exhaustion, he’s more tired than he’s ever been suddenly. All the adrenaline and energy he had during service left him the minute his feet touched American soil again, now he just wants to sleep for days. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him to get out, get some air, see his family, but anxiousness and fatigue prevail and before long he’s asleep.

The nightmares aren’t new. He’s had those for years now, but something about being back home makes them worse. He never feared the war, not outwardly, but somewhere deep down in his mind there is true trepidation. Panic, that never saw the light of day and got buried away. Anxiety over not being saved, or perhaps not being able to save anyone. It’s painful and horrifying, waking up in the night not knowing if you’re dreaming or not. He never feels more disorientated than those moments in the middle of the night where he jolts awake in a cold sweat.

This time when he wakes Syverson feels more alone than ever, and that only makes it more difficult to manage. Back there if you were up late at night, you were never the only one. Here Sy feels that gripping desolation of having no one. Not even Aika, who was always by his side before. “I should get a dog” he mutters to himself, before turning to the side he reads the clock – just gone 3am. Back when he was suffering from insomnia, one of the nurses taught him a breathing technique to help clear his mind so it was ready for sleep. It never did work, but he tries it again now just in case. Inhale for four, hold your breath for seven, exhale for eight. Repeat three times. Relax. Don’t think.

While it helps to calm him sleep seems to elude him for the time being, so reluctantly Sy slips out of bed and feels the pounding of a headache as he moves. He pulls on a pair of boxers from the drawers by his bed and pads to the kitchen, realising that he’s parched and starving. The fridge is stocked, to his surprise, and he’s even more delighted to see his sister-in-law left a home-made casserole and a slice of key lime pie for him. While he heats the food and gulps down several glasses of water Syverson walks around his house thinking how strange it is that this place doesn’t feel like his the way it used to. It feels almost alien to him, unusual but familiar as if from another life. He sighs and resigns himself to the fact that things are going to take some getting used to.

Syverson’s thoughts are interrupted when he sees the note, on the table where he’d left his keys earlier. At first he thinks it’s from his brother but that handwriting isn’t his. He knows exactly whose it is. Her. He’d made himself stop thinking about her a while back, but he remembers her writing from the letters back when they’d made a go of things. He reads the note and smiles just slightly, because sure, thing’s will probably still be shitty but maybe he won’t be as entirely alone as he thought.

‘Welcome home, Captain. Can I buy you a drink?’


	2. Part 2

The bar brings back more memories than Syverson thinks he can deal with right now. Memories he hasn’t had to recall in a long, long time. It’s the same in every way, even the patrons are familiar to him. There’s one though, that catches his eye. One he’s been thinking of. Tucked away in your favourite booth at the back of the bar, semi shielded by darkness but he always knew where to find you.

You always looked a little out of place here, too beautiful for such a dive. Syverson remembers the first time he’d seen you here a few years back, the most mesmerising women he’d ever laid eyes on. Bold and drunk he had gone straight up to you and offered to buy you a drink. You’d declined, indicating your full glass, but had pointed to the seat next to you and asked him to stay and drink with you. You wouldn’t normally encourage strangers like that but you’d felt something different in him. You’d quickly seen the mixture of optimism and fear in his eyes and knew you wanted to hear his story, wanted to know him. He was more intelligent and charming than any other man you knew; not just strong, although he clearly was, but ardent and steadfast, brave, loyal. Incredible.

Now, he’s staring from across the bar. You give him a warm smile, wave at him, and he shakes himself out of whatever daze he was in. Walks over to you. Your heart is already beating hard in your chest at the sight of him, still huge, more of a beard than last time. Your own recollections are evoked unprompted; The way he kissed you hard, not just lips but teeth and tongue. Feeling his weight on top of you, letting him fill you and mark you and love you. You can’t help it, these reminders from what feels like long ago, seeping in to your mind and making you feel weak

“Sy” you call out to him as he gets closer, giving him a genuine and happy beam. He lets you pull him in to a hug, he sighs your name as your arms wrap around him as best you can, and you can’t stop yourself from whispering “I’ve missed you” in his ear. He doesn’t want to let you go, already enthralled all over again but he breaks the embrace first. He sits next to you in the booth, not opposite – old habits die hard. You’ve already got the drinks, knowing well what he likes, and you clink your glasses in a cheers before both taking a sip.

He’s nervous, he realises. It’s been a year and a half and he doesn’t know how your feelings have changed in that time. His haven’t changed at all, he felt that the moment he saw the note. The flutter in his heart, the smile on his lips. It was always going to be you, through the good and the bad. And it had already been both, good and bad. Good; when he’d spent a year back in the States, when you’d first met. It had been fast moving but never felt like too much – you’d been practically living together by the time he was deployed again. Bad; the struggle of being apart, the arguments over his duty to his country, you begging him to stay, not to die in the desert so far away from you.

You’d written to each other, for the first few months of his new tour. To begin with, your letters had be passionate and determined but soon it had become too hard, the distance and the time and the worry. Too much. Syverson felt it too, to some extent, how painful it was to be in love and so far away. In your last letter you had begged him not to hate you, but you couldn’t keep this up, not for now. Not until he was home again.

“You look good, Sy. I like the beard” you say to him now, waking him from his reverie “Thanks for meeting me, I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again after…” you still feel guilty for that but he shakes his head and moves slightly closer to you. You continue “I’m sorry, you know. Sorry for giving up on you, for not being strong enough to keep it together for you. I regretted it straight away, letting go of you” there’ll be time for small talk later, for now you have to say your piece that you’ve been practising all day, even as he shushes you with kind eyes and a warm heart

“Ah don’t do that, sweetheart please. I’m not angry, I told you I understand and I meant it” he offers an assuring squeeze of your hand “We tried, didn’t we? We tried and that’s what matters. It didn’t work but that’s no ones fault. Some people are meant to be together, as in physically. There’s no shame in that” you lean against his shoulder and close your eyes, it’s so easy to fall back in and it feels so normal to do. Still in love with him even with all the time apart “I missed you like crazy too, but I’m back now” he turns his head, kisses your forehead and gives his first genuine smile of he evening as he puts an arm around you. You and him were always the perfect fit.

“I was so worried. So scared. You’re a great guy, Sy. I’m so glad you’re home” you exhale, sitting up to face him but resting your body against his needing to feel him against you “Are you happy to be back?”

“I am now” he answers quietly, not wanting to talk about how out of place and empty he’s felt these past couple weeks. Instead he places his fingers on your chin and gently turns you to face him. Neither of you hesitate for a second, bringing your lips together in a kiss you’ve both needed for far too long. His heart is beating so hard and fast he’s sure the whole bar can hear it. Your breath catches when he moves away for a second, lips hovering just a hairs breadth away and he buries one hand in your hair, the other resting at your waist. He moves back and you breathe him in for a second before the kiss continues

It starts off gentle, but soon turns in to something more, something that conveys a year and a half of pent up passion and desire, buried away emotions boiling up to the surface. One of your hands finds its way to his shorn head, moving against the short hairs on the back of his head as he deepens the kiss and you moan against his mouth unintentionally. You’d been prepared for him to walk away, to tell you he couldn’t and leave you to your tears. You didn’t know that the minute he saw you he knew he still needed you, in every single way.

You barely even notice his fingers slowly trailing from your waist down to your thigh until he pulls your mid length skirt up slightly and slides his had under it. Feeling his skin, his rough hand squeezing half way up your smooth inner thigh makes you break the kiss and gasp, looking in to his blue eyes now darkened, pupils blown out with lust.

“Sy…” you whimper, quiet, not sure what you want to say. He’s all but panting, trying to regain his breath after that kiss. It could’ve lasted a lifetime and it still wouldn’t be enough. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move his hand away and you’re glad of that. Part of you wants him to take you right here, on the table. Some other, quieter part of you tells you to slow down, and think, but you don’t want to listen to that voice right now.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you” he groans, burying his face against your neck. In his mind he’s finding comfort for the first time since he came home. Nothing felt like home until you showed up again. It’s as if suddenly he can close his eyes and no longer have to see the suffering, not hear the screams of the war.

“Tell me what you missed” you ask, eyes wide and voice low. You don’t know why you want to hear it but something in you needs to.

“Everything” he sighs, grazing his lips against your neck before moving away “I missed it all. I missed the sound of your laughter, that smile of yours that lights up the darkest room. The way you get so passionate when you talk about something you love. The crazy ideas you’re always coming up with. Waking up next to you. I even missed you waking me up at the crack of dawn for a good morning kiss every day without fail, even when I complained about it. I missed your kiss, your touch” his speech is impassioned, honest, loving beyond all belief. The way he speaks the words, with that southern drawl that refuses to ever go away, making you desperate for him without reserve. He kisses you softly before continuing “I missed the way you moan my name, hearing you beg for more, showing me how much you need me” his hand moves further up your thigh, finding the heat between your legs, feeling your arousal through the thin fabric. Hand pressing against you and making you mewl quietly, spreading your legs slightly “I missed this”.

He looks around to make sure no ones paying any attention before he continues. You watch him intently, your eyes not leaving his blue ones as he pushes the fabric aside and his fingers spread you slightly, running lightly over you. You have to press your lips together to stay quiet as he teases you, he always did enjoy that, before pushing a finger inside of you. You have to place your hand over you mouth when you let out an involuntary whine at the feeling, hoping that no one is paying you any mind. You’ve never been this bold before, never let anything get this far in such a public setting, but something about it feels strangely good, being this reckless. He leans down to kiss the exposed skin on your shoulder as he curls his finger within you again and again, then withdraws it slowly.

He lifts his head, breathes your name and at the same time brushes his finger over your clit then traces a circle around it. He’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants you right now, every suppressed moan and hitched breath getting him there. His surroundings melting away until it’s just you and him, the way it should be. Your hand grasps tight on his shoulder when he circles directly over your clit again, more pressure this time, enough to make you gasp with pleasure. He repeats the action with slow and steady movements.

“Sy…Fuck. Sy, kiss me” you whisper, needing him to help stop you from moaning loudly but also wanting his lips against yours again. He does, straight away and it’s not the rough demanding kiss you expected but something soft and loving. Your leg is beginning to shake now, the concentrated stimulation and his lips on yours bringing you closer by the second. “Oh god you’re going to make me come” your voice is barely audible, just to him.

“That’s the plan, baby. That’s right, show me how good it feels” that undertone of cockiness, of power he always has without even meaning to, there it is.

You have to bite down on your lower lip as the sensation builds to fire inside you, eyes locking with his again before it becomes too much and you have to bury your face against his chest as you come. Your legs shake, heart beating faster, skin burning as it ripples fiercely through your body. It hasn’t been that good in so long, you can’t stand to even imagine how it’ll be when you’re finally alone together again

You pant, still pressed against him and you imagine he’s got a smirk on his face, deeply enjoying what he just put your through. When you raise your head again he’s watching you but he doesn’t look pleased with himself rather than pleased to know he has you back. He moves your panties back in place and runs his fingers back down your inner thigh.

“Yeah, I really missed you” you moan, just about managing to breathe normally now.

“Come home with me?” he asks, hopeful and in need.

“Yes” is all you need to say, about to finish the rest of your drink and grab your bag when he stops you.

“I’m gonna need a minute” he explains, raising an eyebrow at you and sitting back, breathing in and out deeply for a moment and then taking a slow sip of his drink, trying to calm himself down.

You laugh and he gives you a big grin, joining in. You figure it might be easier for him if you talk about something else, so you ask again “So how’s home? You didn’t tell me”

“It’s fine” he murmurs and you know it’s a lie “It’s…always too quiet or too loud, you know? Echoes and silence. Ah, that doesn’t make sense. I think it’ll take some getting used to, is all” he shrugs. You don’t need to tell him yet, but it does make sense to you, echoes and silence. It’s all you felt when he was gone. You offer him a sympathetic look and place your hand over his, both of you sitting in silence for a moment just taking each other in

When you’ve both emptied your glasses he gets up and offers you his hand, leading you out of the bar. You could swear when you walk out the barmaid gives you a judgemental look, but hope it’s just your imagination playing cruel tricks on you. He doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment as you make your way the short distance to his house, you know the route like the back of your hand. It’s one of your favourite places to be.

Half way home he stops walking and quickly pulls you in to a kiss, letting his hands roam down to squeeze your ass. He kisses you roughly, hard and demanding, hips pushing against you. “Sorry sweet, I just can’t help myself” he admits with a groan, when you break for air.

“That’s nothing to be sorry about”

Looking around you see the streets are practically empty, so you decide to do something completely crazy. Silently you take his hand again and lead him around the next block. There’s a dimly lit alleyway at the back of some stores, no on should be there now. He gives you a look, but you just grin and pull him along by the hand as much as you physically can pull someone with that much muscle mass. He has no protests, when you lean against the wall and pull him towards you, whining for him to kiss you again. His hands grip your hips, keeping you pressed against the wall as he kisses down you neck, hands on either side of your head.

He grunts in your ear when your hands move to rest on his muscular ass cheeks and try to pull him even more towards you. You want his body crushing against yours, how you crave that feeling. You’re more brazen with your moans now, letting him hear them. Too caught up in it to care about any passers-by. He doesn’t stop kissing every bit of skin he can as you push down the zip of his pants and slide your hand inside. He’s so hard already, you’ve given him so much to work with.

“Fuck me, Sy” you beg, your hand gripping and stroking his length. He’s far past the point of worrying if this is good idea, doesn’t care any more. It’s been a year and a half, even if he wasn’t desperate for it before he would be now. With you here begging for him; so beautiful, lips plump from bruising kisses, glowing in the moonlight. You push him slightly away from you and bend down, pulling your underwear off from beneath your skirt in a quick movement. You stuff them in the back pocket of his pants and raise your eyebrows at him. His move next.

“My dirty girl” he mutters, looking in awe at you. Reaching down to hook his hand behind your knee and pulling one leg up to wrap around him. He stops for a second realising something “Shit, I don’t have a-” you cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips and opening your bag that still hangs on your shoulder. You pull out the small silver square and hold it up to him, closing your bag and dropping it to the floor. He gives an impressed smirk while you open the wrapper and pull his pants and boxers down a bit, drawing out his cock and rolling the condom on to it. With your free hand you hitch up your skirt, pushing your head back against the wall with a drawn out moan when he takes over, rubbing the tip over your clit. You’re still so wet from before, so ready for him, and it’s easy for him to slowly press down and slide in to you.

He’s still for a moment, breathing heavily, eyes roaming your face like he’s trying to memorise every feature. Your hands hold on to his shoulders for support as he fills you so entirely, better than anyone else ever has. You’d never forgotten that feeling, but it still feels new all over again. Every cell in your body is on fire with the sensation already. When he starts moving, Sy knows he won’t be able to last long enough, not this time. But he’ll make that up to you at home, you know that already.

Long, slow strokes quickly turn faster, harder as he fucks you just how he knows you want it. You whimper and whine, encouraging and pleading words in between. He tells you between breaths how good, how unbelievably good you feel. How he thought about you, back then. He strokes your clit as he thrusts, and everything is so intense you don’t notice the scratch of the brick behind you on your back. Or maybe it adds to the pleasure.

Soon, the building warmth spills over like molten lava and he’s there “Baby…I can’t…I’m gonna…” he pants and you nod, that’s okay, and kiss him hard while you squeeze down around him as best you can. Watching him finish, that’s what you love. Seeing his muscles shift and contract, his eyes going wide before he presses them shut, open mouthed and moaning your name. It’s such a sight to behold. When he’s recovered enough, he pulls slowly out of you and slips off the condom. Rearranging his clothes as you smooth down yours. You’re both silent for a moment before he takes your hand once more. “C’mon sweetheart, let’s go home”.

“Let’s, please. I’m nowhere near done with you yet” you smirk, giving him a wink and making him chuckle.

“Y’know, suddenly it’s good to be back”


End file.
